


The Kill

by soulfulsin



Series: Night of the Hunter [4]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, F/M, One Shot, short series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin
Summary: (AU of From Yesterday) This will be a very short series/one long one-shot broken into chapters.Steelbeak succeeds in driving Webby away from Dewey and Mrs. Beakley. Webby, unable to trust anyone and plotting revenge for losing them, decides to strike back at Steelbeak.Meanwhile, Lena, Louie, and Huey plot out a way to grab Webby and prevent her from making a mistake that might destroy what's left of her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [From Yesterday](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393999) by [soulfulsin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulfulsin/pseuds/soulfulsin). 



> There are certain ships I only see in alternate universes and Louna is one of them since they didn't interact much in canon. So don't expect to see much of that elsewhere.
> 
> I've been wanting to play with this idea for a while now, but the timing never felt right. Then I thought April Fool's Day would be the perfect time to bring out an idea I know I'd never implement in the actual series. I'd say "you never know", but seriously, I couldn't do that. 
> 
> This makes twice I've killed Beakley. Shit, man. 
> 
> Couple more things: if I continue this, it'll probably be another chapter or two at the most. Like I said, short series. Another thing (this is a long note)--you can tell I was getting tired toward the end, because the writing gets very choppy. XD

“Sir, she’s been in this state for over a week now,” a medical professional informed Steelbeak. “We don’t know how to get her out of her shock.”

 

Steelbeak growled, staring at his daughter through the window of the hospital observation room. After he’d killed Dewey and Mrs. Beakley, he’d expected backlash, but not to this extent. Webby had completely shut down. She wouldn’t speak, she only received nutrients and water through IV drips, and any attempt to engage her met with dismal failure. That both of her loved ones had perished in front of her with her powerless to stop it probably contributed to the problem. Steelbeak had thought that this shock should be enough to convince her not to trust anyone because anyone she cared about would leave her. Instead, it had seemed to have sapped her will to live.

 

Steelbeak, ignoring the disconcerted voices requesting he stay out of the room, swept inside. Webby was staring at the TV screen, which was showing the Duckburg News with Roxanne Featherly. Scrooge McDuck was holding a funeral for his grand-nephew and his housekeeper; Webby’s fingers twitched on the remote. Her eyes had filled with tears and she choked back sobs. When the security cameras went off at night, a few of his staff had sworn they’d heard her crying. She wouldn’t do it when there was the remote possibility of anyone catching her. It made him simultaneously proud of her for suppressing her feelings until it was appropriate to break down and irritated that he still couldn’t extract Dewey and Mrs. Beakley from her system.

 

“Webby,” he intoned. Webby glanced up at him, albeit briefly, and then her gaze returned to the TV. Her tears threatened to overflow and she gasped. As Scrooge McDuck was such a well-known figure, the funeral was broadcast live. Although the tycoon looked somber, behind his misery burned white hot fury. Steelbeak had wanted Webby to know who had killed her loved ones. Unfortunately, that meant Scrooge McDuck knew too. And there would be no hiding until it blew over. Until Scrooge McDuck died, Steelbeak would be hunted. He couldn’t risk his face in public, not around here, not for a long time.

 

Scrooge stepped away from his remaining family and walked toward the broadcaster. Part of the agreement was that none of the reporters would make inane comments during the service and they would cut away before the burial. Yet it appeared Scrooge had something to say.

 

“Ye can run, but ye cannae hide, Steelbeak,” Scrooge growled into the microphone Roxanne provided him. “And if ye think you can hold onto Webbigail forever, you’re wrong.”

 

For the first time in a week, something like hope flitted in Webby’s gaze. It grew as Louie put his arm around Lena de Spell while they walked to the gravesite. She stared at the TV so hard she looked like she wanted to vault into it. 

 

“He doesn’t blame you for what happened to Dewey. That’s interesting. Very interesting.”

 

Webby flinched at Dewey’s name. Reluctantly, her head swiveled in his direction and when she spoke, it came out no louder than a croak from disuse.

 

“Get. Out.”

 

“Or maybe he does blame you and he wants to punish you himself. What do you think, Webby? Do you think he trusts the former villain whose appearance in his life killed his grand-nephew?” Steelbeak continued. He glanced at Della Duck, who was holding Huey’s hand and also her twin brother’s. Rather than the misery he’d expected, the entire Duck family, including the remaining McDuck, looked enraged, one step away from rampaging until they found Steelbeak and throttled him to within an inch of his life. Steelbeak snorted. These Ducks don’t back down indeed.

 

“We need to have a chat, you and I,” Steelbeak said, sitting beside her at a chair provided for company. “You can’t go back to McDuck Manor or Duckburg. You’re a wanted duck.”

 

“Get. Out. I have nothing to say to you.”

 

Steelbeak scoffed. “Webby, what’s the point in being obstinate? You and I both know that I’m telling the truth. Why should they want you? You’re the reason Dewey is dead.”

 

“Stop saying his name,” she demanded, beak clenched. 

 

“You knew it would come to this. I told you forming attachments beyond FOWL was unhealthy. You got the others killed, Webby. You didn’t belong with them. You’re poisonous and the only person who understands you is me.”

 

Webby’s lower beak quivered and she yanked on the IVs in her arms. They wouldn’t budge. He’d ordered them stuck as strongly as possible after the last time she’d tried to exact them. To yank them out now would be excruciating and they both knew it.

 

“You need to face facts. You’re a FOWL agent through and through. You’re one of us. You could never be with them.”

 

Webby was staring at the TV screen again as the non-denominational minister spoke in front of blown up pictures of Mrs. Beakley and Dewey. Her tears spilled over and she hugged herself. The anguish etched in her features was startling and he was troubled. His plan might not be working as he’d planned. This had been meant to put her back in her place. Instead, it had made her borderline homicidal and passively suicidal.

 

“This is your fault,” he continued, albeit in a softer tone. “You know it is. You knew what would happen if you got too close, Webby.”

 

Seeing that his words were having no effect on her, he stepped out of the room. Shutting the door behind him, he beckoned toward one of the technicians, a petite female dog wearing a white lab coat.

 

“Isolate her. Take the TV out. Don’t let anyone talk to her except me. She has to depend on me from now on.”

 

“Sir, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the tech protested. “She’s already grieving. If you put her in solitary, you risk pushing her over the edge. And she’s too unpredictable to know what would happen once she’s crossed that line.”

 

Steelbeak studied Webby through the window again. Webby had curled in on herself on the bed and pressed her face into the pillow to conceal the sobs that wracked her body. What was this strange feeling? Could it possibly be guilt? Guilt that he’d wounded his daughter to the core? He watched her for a minute more to see whether the feeling resolved itself, but it did not.

 

No, it wasn’t his fault. Webby had to learn and he was the only one to teach her. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Webby’s for getting too close. He’d only been teaching her the consequences of her actions. She was the one who’d taken the fall. It wasn’t his fault. Thus, reassured, he stepped away from the window.

 

“Do as I say,” he retorted. “Or do I need to replace you?”

 

“No, no, not at all,” she promised, though her expression was shuttered. “We’ll keep her isolated and take out the TV.”

 

Steelbeak stood there and waited while they disconnected the TV and unmounted it from the wall. Webby watched, her face a mask again, the few tears that had fallen wiped away. He’d kept Black Heron away from her because he didn’t trust Heron not to rub it in. Once Webby was more stable, he’d risk exposure to other FOWL elements. For now, he needed to control everything about her environment.

 

Once the TV was removed and he’d double-checked that she hadn’t secreted a phone or anything else about her person, not that it would’ve been easy while wearing a hospital gown, he left her alone. She didn’t even look at him. Instead, she stared at the spot on the wall where the TV had hung as if she could bring it back into being by sheer willpower. It would’ve been impressive if it hadn’t been so disconcerting.

 

She’d see in time that this was the best way to handle the situation. She’d understand that Father knew best. 

 

Still, as time went by, he found himself frustrated by her lack of progress. As she knew she was being monitored, she didn’t speak unless and until he entered the room. Otherwise, she stared at nothing for hours at a time. It was like she was determined to cut off all outside contact.

 

It was hard to discern what she was thinking and a month passed. She finally started eating on her own and spoke to Steelbeak without prompting, though her tone remained cold and unemotional. Something irreparable had broken inside of her and he hated her for it. He hated that she still didn’t appreciate what he’d done for her. Only someone who truly cared about her future would have gone to such great lengths to ensure she had one, that she wasn’t wasting her time with SHUSH and boyfriends. Again, he blamed her, because he refused to accept that it was in any way his fault.

 

After the month passed, he permitted her to return to her normal activities. The psychologists had determined she wouldn’t attempt to flee HQ and that they had matters under control. Of course, it meant that the doctors had needed to drug her to curb some rather troubling tendencies, like that of attempting to manipulate the nurses into doing what she wanted, which was freedom. Now, with the drugs taking care of that, she didn’t try to coerce her way free. 

 

It was for the best, anyway. There was no escape.

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you know where she is or don’t you?” Louie asked, aggravated, as Lena performed another correction to her spell. Huey was agitated too, though he showed it in a different way than his younger brother. He’d taken to pacing about the room and consulting the JWG, though what they were doing was so far beyond the limits of what the guidebook said that he couldn’t imagine his brother deriving any comfort from it. Perhaps it was just the familiar feel of the book in his hands.

 

“Hang on,” Lena snapped. “This isn’t a precise science.”

 

“Or a science at all,” Huey said. They all felt Dewey’s absence keenly, like a missing limb. They’d head into a room and expect to see him there only to come up short. It was like a punch in the gut every time. The same, to a lesser extent, went for Mrs. Beakley.

 

“Hey, it’s more than you’ve managed,” Lena shot at Huey. “Cut me a break, nerd boy. I’m getting a read on her location.”

 

She was dangling her amulet with its crystal on it over a map of the world and it pulled toward North America. Specifically, it was pulling toward the Yukon. Huey, prepared with maps of every country in the world, whipped out one of Canada and replaced the world map with it. Lena frowned as the crystal spun like mad before settling on a specific spot.

 

“That’s it. She’s within that hundred-mile radius,” Lena said.

 

“You’re sure?” Huey said and Lena gave him a sour look.

 

“You want to try it?” she snapped. “You, who doesn’t have any magic in his body?”

 

“Chill,” Louie said, putting a hand on Lena’s arm. “I believe you.”

 

“I’m just saying that we could’ve used something else, something better, like--” Huey didn’t get to speak before Lena cut him off.

 

“You didn’t put a tracking device on her. I’m working with what I’ve got, which is magic,” she snapped. “I don’t hear any bright ideas from you, just complaints.”

 

“Hey, hey,” Louie said and rubbed Lena’s back. “We got you.”

 

Lena shot Huey a nasty look. “Do you believe me or don’t you?”

 

“How are we going to explain this to Uncle Scrooge?” Huey asked. “Without mentioning magic or Lena?”

 

“Leave that to me,” Louie said and cracked his knuckles. “I have a way with words.”

 

Ten minutes later, he stood in front of his great-uncle’s desk and repeated the same process Lena had done with the maps. Scrooge watched as Lena’s amulet pinpointed the same location and the older duck leaned back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest.

 

“That’s all well and good, lassie, but that doesn’t narrow it down very much,” Scrooge said, waving at the map. “You’ve got over a hundred miles of terrain and they could be anywhere. They could even be underground.”

 

“We can get a more precise map,” Huey suggested. “One just of the Yukon.”

 

Scrooge looked thoughtful. He was silent for a minute, ruminating, and then he looked up at the three teenagers.

 

“We dinnae know what kind of shape Webbigail’s in,” he pointed out. “Or what Steelbeak has put her through because of this.”

 

“Her grandmother would want us to bring her back,” Huey said.

 

“Aye, that may be…” Scrooge said. Louie didn’t speak. Dewey would’ve wanted Webby back too. The hole in his heart where Dewey was ached, raw and blistering. His absence was a solid, painful thing, a brand upon his mind and heart.

 

“But she needs someone,” Huey argued and Lena nodded.

 

“Mr. McDuck, she needs us,” Lena said. “I know what it’s like to be at the mercy of a villain whose only interest is how far she can get through your pain. And she probably thinks you blame her for her grandmother and Dewey’s death.”

 

“Anyone with eyes would’ve known Steelbeak was behind this!” Scrooge objected.

 

“She’s probably not thinking rationally right now,” Huey commented.

 

“All the more reason to bring her back,” Lena added.

 

“All right,” Scrooge said. “Find me a map of the Yukon and figure out where Webbigail is to within ten to fifteen miles at the most. Then come back here. We’ll start as soon as we have a better idea of her location.”

 

Recognizing that as a dismissal, Louie nodded and they backed out of the room. They ran into Della, who was still mourning Dewey too but putting on a brave face for her remaining children. She offered them a weak smile and Huey hugged her. She hugged him back and then her eyes narrowed.

 

“What have you three been up to?” she demanded.

 

“Nothing,” Louie said, his first impulse to lie. 

 

“We’re trying to figure out a way to bring Webby back,” Huey said and Louie shot him a look. Sure, go right out and say it. That was so helpful. Not. Sometimes, he could swear that they had triplet telepathy and Huey was deliberately not doing what he wanted to spite him.

 

Triplet telepathy. They weren’t triplets anymore. The recollection hit him like a punch to the gut and he gasped. Lena steadied him.

 

“What’s up?” she murmured.

 

“It’s like every time I’m okay, even for a minute, something reminds me of him and it hits me all over again,” Louie said, shaking his head.

 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Della asked, frowning.

 

“We’re sure,” Huey said, leaving no room for doubt. 

 

“I’ll talk to her,” Lena promised. “She needs to see a friendly face. And, well...I might be the only person left she trusts, even a little.”

 

* * *

 

 

She was biding her time, as far as things went. She had no intention of letting Steelbeak get away with murder, not again. It was her sole focus in life and the only thing left to her. When she trained now, she fought the hardest she’d ever fought, more aggressive and ruthless than she’d ever been. Steelbeak had been right in one thing--she was alone now. She’d lost the two people who had mattered the most to her and she would never forgive him for it.

 

Dewey might have kept her from going over the edge, but Dewey was gone. And Webby hadn’t gone over the edge so much as crashed beyond it and into unmarked territory. She was going to kill Steelbeak for taking away her grandmother and Dewey. She had no plans for what happened after. There might not even be an ‘after’. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a twist in the next chapter that I hope you guys don't hate me for...

She wasn’t taking the medication. In fact, she’d never taken it. As soon as it was administered in her breakfast, she flushed it down the toilet. She’d made the mistake of imbibing it once and it had left her addled for the rest of the day. Steelbeak wanted her quiet and compliant. She could feign that without the meds keeping her docile.  
  
Contrary to what Steelbeak thought, she still had her phone, the one her grandmother had given her. She replayed Dewey’s messages constantly, whenever she was alone and the cameras were off. That was one good thing about having spent time in McDuck Manor. Louie had taught her how to circumvent security. She shut them off at erratic times, to prevent anyone from discerning a pattern. Steelbeak was keeping a close eye on her, make no mistake, so she had to be careful with how she spent her time and what subterfuge she engaged in.  
  
Hearing Dewey’s voice battered her psyche and it was equal parts relief and torture. She wanted to torment herself, too. She deserved it. Dewey had perished because of her. She didn’t deserve to derive comfort from his voice. Besides, hearing him steeled her resolve.  
  
She began plotting out Steelbeak’s schedule. Rather than appear aloof, she set herself to be indispensable to him. That way, he had no reason to suspect anything. She performed everything he asked of her above and beyond what he expected and left no room for doubt or error. She became the machine she’d tried to avoid before. Whatever was left of her so-called secret heart was demolished.  
  
Or so she pretended. It was easier to numb herself than to face the overwhelming grief. Late at night, stifling her sobs, she curled into a ball and wept silently. It wasn’t fair. She’d endured so much, had happiness briefly, and then Steelbeak had snatched it away again. Damn it. Had Dewey known they had so little time, would he have reacted differently to her? Would he have let them consummate their relationship? She’d never had that intimacy with him and she never would now.  
  
Her phone was ringing again and she ignored it. Over the last month, Louie, Lena, Huey, and even Scrooge had attempted to reach out to her. All of their calls went to voicemail and she never listened to their messages. She kept the phone charged so that the calls went through, but never answered. The only reason she could think for any of them to call would be to cast recriminations upon her and she was adroit in doing that herself. She didn’t need the assistance.  
  
As for how she’d concealed it from the techs and the nurses--there were places that polite people wouldn’t look. For now, she kept it in a drawer in her room that had a false bottom. The cord was in there too and she only brought them out when the cameras were dead. At present, she toyed with the phone as it rang. Lena’s face flashed on the screen.  
  
To her consternation, it stopped ringing. A text flew across the screen instead; she was surprised, mostly because she didn’t think her phone could store any further texts. It’d blown up right after Steelbeak had snatched her back.  
  
“Webs--I know the number isn’t disconnected. Answer me please.”  
  
What made her drop the phone wasn’t the text itself, but the number. Someone had sent it from Dewey’s phone. She found herself responding without thinking, anger fueling her movements.  
  
“Who do you think you are, using Dewey’s number?” she demanded via text.  
  
“Aha,” came a short sound clip. Lena’s voice. “Got you. I knew that’d trigger a response.”  
  
Webby fumed, furious that Lena had tricked her. Had it been a joint effort between her and Louie? They were both crafty enough for that. Ah, it didn’t matter. Lena was sending her another message now and she held down the power button on the phone. It turned off and she drew a deep, shaky breath. Shutting the phone off had cut her last connection to McDuck Manor and Duckburg. It also meant she couldn’t listen to Dewey’s voicemails obsessively.  
  
It dawned on her that Lena might’ve been able to track her location through her reply, but she discarded that notion as unlikely. The connection had been brief, not long enough to establish geographical placement. Still, she spun the phone about in her palm. She resented what Lena had done and she hated that it mustered up feelings sooner buried. Her secret heart had shattered after losing her grandmother and Dewey. How dare Lena think she could stir things up again, especially if she intended to rub salt in the wounds?  
  
Curiosity gnawed at her and she flung the phone away. Sitting upright in bed, she replayed Dewey’s messages in her mind. After a month, she’d memorized every detail. There weren’t many messages, only four, and they were skimpy on detail. Sometimes, when she was tired and couldn’t sleep, she used what she recalled of his voice to say new things, things that he might tell her to comfort her. She’d wanted to do the same with her grandmother’s voice, but she couldn’t hold onto it.  
  
Sick to her stomach, she resumed the only thing that brought her any peace--working on her elaborate revenge scheme against Steelbeak. Since she didn’t dare write anything down, she quoted the steps to herself, much as she had with Dewey’s voicemails. Thus far, she had strengthened her ties with her father, but it wasn’t enough. She had to be untouchable.  
  
Against her better judgment, she scooped up the phone and studied it. Dewey. The name thudded in her chest and she threw the phone hard against the wall, so hard that the phone’s back shattered upon impact. Steelbeak was right. Her closeness to Dewey and Mrs. Beakley had gotten them both killed. She was poison.  
  
The phone let out a plaintive whine, objecting to the abuse, and she saw she’d accidentally turned it back on. Disgusted with herself, she curbstomped the phone until the screen was likewise shattered and the phone was unusable. Scooping it up and ignoring the glass shards that pricked her fingers, she flung it in the trash.  
  
She hadn’t seen Black Heron in over a month and it struck her that now would be a perfect time for the FOWL operative to gloat at Webby’s misfortune. Steelbeak must’ve been keeping them apart. Normally, Webby would’ve had no objections, but she wanted someone to practice on. She wanted to ensure that her plan was foolproof by killing someone who had always stood in her way, who had always tried to ruin her life. Dewey and Mrs. Beakley would never have wanted her to do that. Then again, they were both dead because of Webby.  
  
Irritated that the phone had distracted her yet again, she resumed methodically plotting out her revenge. Steelbeak had already taken her into his confidence, which was the first step. Next, she’d memorized his schedule and was working on getting alone time with him. The third step was disabling the cameras and the fourth would be to sneak her knives into the office. Killing someone with a blade was very personal and she wanted him to suffer as his life bled out before him. She wanted him to feel the same anguish she had when she’d witnessed them dying. And she wanted him to know this was his fault.  
  
As there was nothing for her to do at present, she settled down to sleep. She curled up tighter in her little ball and, as she had for the last thirty-five days and counting, she cried herself to sleep.

* * *

  
“Shit, I should’ve said something else,” Lena said as her calls went straight to voicemail. “I scared her off.”  
  
“But how else were we going to get a response?” Louie protested. “If we didn’t shock it out of her?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter now,” Huey said, grimacing. They were up late too, poring over a map of the Yukon. They had pinpointed Webby’s location to within fifteen kilometers, which fell within Scrooge’s demanded amount. All three of them were close to falling asleep, too, and their heads kept bumping into each other as they sagged with fatigue. Grief over Dewey and Mrs. Beakley and concern over Webby didn’t help. It felt like they were about to keel over.  
  
“We need to go there soon,” Huey said and yawned, covering his mouth. “Before she does something she’ll regret.”  
  
“If there’s enough left of her to regret anything,” Lena said, likewise yawning. She collapsed against Louie. “I’m gonna sleep right here, on top of you. And there’s nothing you can do about it, hoodie boy.”  
  
Louie shrugged. He didn’t care either. He was too tired to move. For once in his life, he was tired due to real causes that didn’t revolve around laziness. Rolling over onto his back, he curled his body around Lena’s. Lena was shaking and he toyed with the little streak in her hair.  
  
“I’m leaving now,” Huey announced. Whenever they did anything remotely like a couple, Huey bailed. Louie’s beak quirked in a small smile that faded quickly.  
  
“So we’re sleeping on the rug tonight?” Lena teased.  
  
“Looks like,” Louie agreed.  
  
“Oh, well,” she said and shrugged, turning around so that they faced each other. “Night. I’ve slept in worse places.”  
  
“Same,” he said. “Night.”  
  
But although Louie was exhausted, sleep was long in coming.

* * *

  
  
Webby moved like an automaton through her daily routine. She kept thinking of the phone she’d broken and told herself it didn’t matter, even if that was the first time she’d heard Lena’s voice in over a month. When she had a chance, she retreated to her room to investigate the phone and determine whether it was salvageable. The screen and back had shattered, but, if she looked beyond the superficial, the phone still worked. She hadn’t damaged the display.  
  
Checking that she was alone, she navigated back to her voicemails. It was difficult, as the cracks in the screen prevented her from seeing much of the screen. She also risked getting glass shards embedded in her fingers. Finally, she selected, for the first time, a newer message. She couldn’t read the sender and she hit play anyway, wondering who it might be.  
  
Huey’s voice filled the room.  
  
“Hey,” he said. “This feels weird, especially since you haven’t answered anyone else’s messages. I’m starting to wonder what the point is--”  
  
“The point is that she might eventually come to her senses and listen to them,” Lena snapped in the background.  
  
“Right, so, I know you think Uncle Scrooge blames you for what happened. I know you think we don’t want you back home--”  
  
“Interesting. You smuggled the phone despite my security,” Steelbeak said and Webby startled, jamming the power button and shutting the phone off before Huey could continue and either exonerate or castigate her.  
  
“Did you think your friends would beg you to come back? Did you think they missed you?”  
  
Webby stiffened. “No, I didn’t. They hate me now, thanks to you.”  
  
She was surprised to find she didn’t entirely believe it. Based on what little she’d glimpsed of the funeral, the Duck family seemed angrier with Steelbeak than with her. Maybe they didn’t want her home, per se, but they didn’t hate her. There was hope in that, but she didn’t let it show on her face.  
  
“Then why hold onto the phone?”  
  
“To remind me how I got to this point.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Steelbeak smirked at her response.  
  
“Hey, hey. Don’t torment yourself. That’s Black Heron’s job. Now, I was thinking that maybe, in a month or two, I could let you off your leash again. How do you feel about visiting St. Canard?”  
  
She didn’t fool herself. If she was visiting St. Canard, then she’d be monitored heavily. There was no chance of her making contact with Huey, Louie, or Lena. That didn’t mean she couldn’t slip her handler, but it’d be more difficult. Nonetheless, she cocked her head, intrigued.  
  
“You would let me leave the compound?”  
  
“I might. You’ve stopped moping around since those losers died.”  
  
She maintained an objective face, but inside, her fury mounted. They weren’t losers. They had meant the world to her and he knew it. Losing them had destroyed her and he didn’t care. He’d considered them obstacles to be removed. Even now, he spoke of them so callously.  
  
“I have,” she said once she had reined her temper back in. She shifted her gaze lest Steelbeak glimpse the homicidal rage in her eyes.  
  
“They were only holding you back, Webby,” he said and put a hand on her shoulder. “I had to cut ‘em loose.”  
  
Was that what he was calling it now? Having Taurus Bulba snap Dewey’s neck like a twig was ‘cutting him loose’? The memory resurfaced, just as horrible as the first time she’d relived it, and she swayed, biting her tongue to keep from crying out. The pain was excruciating. Then her grandmother, rushing in there only to be impaled…  
  
She’d missed what her father had said. She was sick with impotent rage.  
  
“...and of course, you’ll need a chaperone,” he added.  
  
“Who?” She pretended she’d heard the rest.  
  
“Who else?” His eyes sparkled and if she hadn’t had years of training in suppressing her emotions, if she hadn’t played this close to the vest for over a month now, she would have mauled him. Black Heron. He was sending Black Heron, who had been insufferable since Mrs. Beakley’s death. It looked like Heron was going to be the first on the chopping block, followed by Steelbeak. There was no reason to keep the woman around, after all. She’d ruined Webby’s life and sought to rub it in. Webby discovered her whole body was quivering.  
  
“I know you and Black Heron have had your differences in the past--”  
  
Oh, was that what he was calling it now?  
  
“But I think you two can work together to eliminate Darkwing Duck and Gosalyn Mallard.”  
  
Typical--he wanted her to do his dirty work. She withheld a sneer and affected a disinterested look. Folding her arms across her chest, she said, “What’s in it for me? Why should I care what happens to them?”  
  
“Or I could leave her an orphan again,” Steelbeak mused. “What do you think?”  
  
She was seeing red. While she concentrated on throttling her temper, she found herself also thinking of where the escape vehicles were. She might not survive this conversation without at least attempting to kill him. Her beak was clamped shut and she flexed her fingers.  
  
“You all right?” he asked after she’d failed to respond. “You don’t look so hot.”  
  
“I’m fine,” she grated out. She willed herself to think of Dewey holding her, of her grandmother’s hugs. The reminder was bittersweet; she’d never have either of those two things again. She needed to exit before she did something she’d regret.  
  
“I was only helping you, you know. You’re much better off without them.”  
  
He’d shattered what was left of her. How dare he say something like that?  
  
She nodded and said, her beak still clenched, “May I be excused?”  
  
Steelbeak hugged her and her blood pressure mounted. He needed to release her now. Thankfully, he did when she didn’t hug him back.  
  
“Do whatever you think is best. I trust your judgment, Webs.”  
  
Webs. He’d called her Dewey’s nickname for her and there was no way that was by accident. The insult was too much to bear. She rounded on him, chest heaving and anguish rushing through her. No, she wasn’t over Dewey’s death. She’d never be over it.  
  
Her phone rang in Steelbeak’s pocket.  
  
“Should I answer it?” he asked, feigning ignorance of Webby’s hostility. “What do you think? Hmm, Webs?”  
  
He was provoking her and seeing what she’d do. She couldn’t suppress her temper any further. Slamming him into the wall by the throat, she stared into the eyes of the man that had taken her family away from her. Steelbeak smiled.  
  
“I knew you had it in you,” he said. “Show Gosalyn the pain you’re suffering. Make her wish she’d never heard of FOWL. I’ll give you a day to get ready.”  
  
Pushing her hold aside, he sauntered off like he owned the place. She felt like her privacy, such as it was, had been violated, and she waited until she heard his footsteps receded into the distance before looking down at the phone. He’d already answered the call; he just hadn’t put it on speakerphone.  
  
Her hand was shaking so badly she almost dropped the battered device and she said, “Hello?”  
  
“Webby!” Huey exclaimed. “I was starting to think you’d never talk to us again.”  
  
“We heard Steelbeak,” Lena said quietly and she realized she was on speakerphone. The glass chips dug into her skin and she ignored the pain, as well as the trickle of blood oozing down her face.  
  
“We’re coming,” Huey promised. “We’re not giving up on you, Webby.”  
  
Her throat was too tight to speak. The rollercoaster of emotions she’d been on threatened to throw her off. Those were the words of a friend, not an enemy. Tears burned the corners of her eyes and she collapsed to the bed.  
  
“Hey,” Lena said. “Answer us, pink.”  
  
She pressed her hand into her beak to stifle her sobs. She couldn’t afford to lose her composure. For all she knew, there were Eggheads within hearing distance. For all she knew, Steelbeak might still be in the proximity. She swallowed past the lump in her throat.  
  
“See you,” she managed weakly and then hung up. The phone was too damaged for her to hold onto for long and she flung it at the wall. She needed to get herself back under control. It would have been suspicious for her to disable the security cameras now and she couldn’t afford to let anyone see her heartbroken. It’d be a recipe for disaster.  
  
She hugged herself as if she could keep all of her broken pieces together. She couldn’t. Losing the others had cost her pieces of herself, too. And she still wanted Steelbeak dead, although she would admit that she wanted to be back at McDuck Manor more. Killing him wouldn’t bring Dewey and her grandmother back.  
  
She straightened up. She had to ensure that the Eggheads didn’t kill them when they got here. However they planned on finding her, she needed to make sure that, whatever happened, closure or not, they would be alive to have it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a twist in here that I was going to reveal in this chapter, but I rewrote the chapter to exclude it. I feel like revealing my hand too early would be a mistake. 
> 
> So will the twist happen? More than likely. I had a hint of it here already. I'm going to build up to it instead of just dumping it on people.

Having access to Steelbeak’s personal data meant she could manipulate the security system and enable it to ignore three interlopers, assuming it was Huey, Lena, and Louie that were coming. She wanted to believe they would be here but she was distrustful of everything now. Sometimes, when she was alone, she thought she heard Dewey calling her name or brushing up against her. It tightened her throat and she wanted to sob, but she suppressed it. Huey and Lena were dependable. She could count on them to be here, if only because Dewey had cared so much about her.  
  
At the moment, she had thrown herself into the shower so she could cry with the water muffling her sobs. It was an old trick she’d learned years ago after Black Heron’s latest “session” with her. Curled into a ball on the shower stall floor, she hugged her knees and fought the temptation to imagine Dewey was here, with her. He’d never be in such a horrible place and she wouldn’t have wished it on him, but she ached with loneliness.  
  
“Pathetic,” Black Heron spat, wrenching the shower curtain back. “I thought I’d find you here.”  
  
Webby hissed, jumping to her feet. She might not have her weapons on her, but she wasn’t defenseless. Moreover, she’d been itching for a fight for over a month now. Maybe a fight would help alleviate her grief. It’d provide a good distraction, at any rate.  
  
“Steelbeak’s been protecting his precious daughter,” Black Heron continued, ignoring Webby’s nakedness or not caring. “He wouldn’t let me near you. He seemed to think you might be in danger. Or a danger. Not sure it matters which.  
  
“And why am I not surprised you’ve been crying? What’s the matter? Do you miss them?”  
  
She’d set upon Webby at her most vulnerable, physically and emotionally. Black Heron aimed her arm at Webby and Webby dove, knocking the older woman off her feet. Black Heron was all she had left of her grandmother and here the woman was, taunting her. She had probably loved hearing about Agent 22’s death. Black Heron flipped Webby over and Webby grabbed her mechanical arm to wrench it behind her back.  
  
“Not so fast,” Black Heron said and slammed Webby into the shower stall wall. Her back struck first, followed by her head, and Webby twisted away, kicking at her hips and sending Heron sideways into the wall. Black Heron snarled, raising her arm again, and Webby punched her in the face. Maybe there were rules of etiquette here. Maybe she ought to respect her...but fuck that. Black Heron had been gloating over Mrs. Beakley’s and Dewey’s deaths. Finally, Webby had an outlet.  
  
Black Heron shoved her away--she couldn’t use her mechanical arm in such close quarters and Webby had no intention of letting her have the room she needed to maneuver. She grabbed her good arm and dislocated it, causing the older woman to howl in pain. But Webby wasn’t finished, not by far.  
  
She punched her in the chest hard enough to crack bone and then, using her open palm, broke three of Heron’s ribs. Black Heron was desperate to get away now, but Webby grabbed the mechanical arm this time and drove it through the wall so that it caught. Black Heron struggled, attempting to free herself, and Webby snagged the older woman’s head.  
  
As she did, she heard her grandmother’s voice in her head warning her not to do this. Warning her that defeating an enemy was one thing, but killing them was another. It wasn’t Black Heron’s fault that her grandmother was dead. It was Steelbeak’s. While Black Heron was hardly innocent, she wasn’t Webby’s target. That didn’t stop the homicidal rage coursing through her.  
  
She was so angry she could barely feel her own aches and pains. Black Heron’s eyes were wide and she blasted away the wall, leaving them standing with the shower water spraying everywhere and stone shards flying everywhere. Black Heron brought the weapon around to draw a bead upon her and Webby swept her feet out from under her. She kicked Black Heron in the head when the woman was down.  
  
The point of no return. Dewey wouldn’t have wanted her to cross it either. For Dewey and her grandmother, she would force herself to step back. That was if she was strong enough to walk away. Black Heron was stunned on the floor and Webby was incensed, heart pounding and chest heaving. Tears blended in with the water dripping down her face.  
  
She could kill her. It’d be so easy. Black Heron was at her mercy. Killing her wouldn’t bring Dewey and Mrs. Beakley back. It wouldn’t erase the years of torment Black Heron had subjected her to. The only thing it might do was alleviate a little grief and even that would be temporary.  
  
Chest tight, she retreated, grabbing her robe from the wall beside the shower stall and ignoring the strange looks that their fight had garnered. Other female FOWL agents had poked their heads out of their shower stalls and Webby glared at them until they returned to their own business. As for her, she was shaking and running back to her room. She didn’t want to be here any longer than she had to be.  
  
They hadn’t had time to replace her door with love beads as they had in the old lair and she slammed and locked it. Flinging herself onto the bed, she drew deep, shaky breaths that dissolved into deeper, heart-wrenching sobs. She hadn’t bothered to dry herself off and her wet hair soaked her pillow. She didn’t care. Hugging her second pillow to her chest, she realized belatedly she hadn’t shut off the security cameras. Oh well. She was out of control and couldn’t bring herself back to normal without a few minutes of this.  
  
Her phone was buzzing again and that, more than anything, brought her out. Still hiccup-sobbing after a couple of minutes, she used the robe to scoop it up and held it to her ear with the terry cloth robe wrapped about the phone.  
  
“Hello?” she said.  
  
“Webbigail,” Scrooge said and Webby gasped back a sob. “Webby, are ye all right, lass?”  
  
“No,” she said and felt better for having admitted it. “No, I’m not, Mr. McDuck.”  
  
“Call me Uncle Scrooge,” he said. “We were able to pinpoint where Steelbeak and FOWL are hiding. We’re coming for ye, lass.”  
  
“Why?” she said and hugged herself with her free arm. “I killed your nephew.”  
  
“Don’t be daft. Taurus Bulba killed Dewey on Steelbeak’s orders. Did ye really think I’ve been blaming you for the last month?”  
  
Against her better judgment, a tiny “yes” escaped.  
  
“Curse me kilts. You’ve been miserable for the last thirty-five days, haven’t you? And blaming yourself on top of it.”  
  
Her throat constricted. The cameras could catch audio from her side, but not from his. Still, she had to be careful about what she revealed and how she spoke. She straightened up, swiping at her eyes.  
  
“There was nothing you could’ve done,” she said, at last, thinking through what she intended to say.  
  
“Ye could’ve answered the phone sooner!” he retorted. “I dinnae know why you’ve been keeping us at arm’s length, lass, but we’ve been worried sick!”  
  
“Really?” she said, trying to sound uninterested but all the while, her heart was pounding. “You were?”  
  
“Of course we were! You’re part of the family!”  
  
Relief swamped her and left her feeling weak. She curled into a ball on her bed and pressed a hand over her beak to conceal the sob that threatened to escape. Evidently, she didn’t do a good enough job, because Scrooge heard her and sighed.  
  
“Webby...your granny told you I was never gonna throw you out and I meant it. We’re coming for you, lass. All of us.”  
  
The phone was getting slippery with blood as it cut into her cheek. She nodded and then remembered he couldn’t see it.  
  
“I’ve gotta go,” she managed.  
  
“Sit tight. We’re coming.”  
  
He hung up and she realized that if the security cameras had been on her, they might not have remained there after what she’d done in the showers. She straightened, using the terry cloth to wipe away excess blood, and started getting dressed. She couldn’t help replaying her conversation with Scrooge in her mind. It was almost enough to bowl her over. She was part of the family. She had lost Dewey and Mrs. Beakley, but they still wanted her.  
  
They still wanted her. She had to keep them from Steelbeak by any means necessary.  
  
By the time she’d finished dressing, she saw a medic rushing to the showers. Smirking, she followed. One of the few perks of living in FOWL HQ was that if someone knew she’d done something wrong, she wouldn’t be punished for it. Instead, others would either stay out of her way or praise her. Given how little Black Heron was liked in general, she garnered either avoidance or applause. The latter made her flush.  
  
Black Heron still hadn’t regained consciousness, she saw. She whirled around and straight into Steelbeak.  
  
“Your work, I assume?” he asked and she nodded, her throat still tight from her earlier conversation.  
  
“Why didn’t you kill her?” he asked, pulling her out of the way of another medic rushing in. His hand lingered on hers and it was pushing away the happiness she’d had. It was like a knife in her balloon of good humor and she wrenched her hand back.  
  
“She didn’t deserve it,” she said when she trusted herself to speak.  
  
“After what she’s done to you? She does.”  
  
“She’s not worth it.”  
  
“That’s Agent 22’s teachings talking, not you,” he scoffed and she gritted her beak, wishing she could grab him by the throat as she had Black Heron.  
  
She had her knives on her now and imagined cutting his throat open. She could do it, right here and now. His Eggheads were nearby, which were a complication she didn’t need. Besides, this wasn’t the time. She knew it and caught herself bouncing on the balls of her heels.  
  
“Ah,” he said softly. “She’s not your target. You’re still angry at me.”  
  
Of course she was angry with him. She let out an explosive breath but didn’t reply aloud.  
  
“I did what I did for your own good. You were getting too close to them.”  
  
They’d loved her. Steelbeak was incapable of it. She was shaking and she pushed away from him. However, she didn’t put her back to him. She wasn’t that foolish.  
  
“They loved me,” she said and her voice quivered. “And you’re incapable of that.”  
  
“Love is overrated,” he retorted, snorting derisively. He stepped forward and cupped her cheek in his palm. The affection drove her insane. Before she’d met Dewey and her grandmother, she might have yearned for him to touch her and show her affection. She’d been touch deprived and she’d craved any sort of physical displays toward her. Now, however, she saw it for what it was--manipulation. She was immune.  
  
“Love is an anchor, Webbigail. It’ll drag you down and everything you’ve set out to do with it. You’re better off without them. And hey, look, no hard feelings, okay? I did what I did because I care about you. I want you to succeed and the only way to motivate you to do that, to be the person you were meant to be, was to kill them. Capiche?”  
  
“Don’t touch me,” she said and he stepped back. “You have no idea. None at all.”  
  
“You’ve been mourning them for too long,” he decided. “You need a reality check. All this waiting around the base is making you mope and brood.”  
  
She inhaled shakily, reminding herself yet again that he was her father, he was the visible face of FOWL, and if she punched him, she’d tip her hand and also bring the Eggheads running. Not to mention if she hit him in the beak, she was more likely to hurt her hand than his face.  
  
“Get ready to move out,” he decided. “I’m moving up your assignment again. Kill Darkwing Duck and Quiverwing and we’ll celebrate by making you a full FOWL member. We’ll have your induction ceremony upon your arrival.”  
  
As if all she’d ever wanted was to become a FOWL member. Perhaps, when she’d been younger, she might have desired that. Now, however, she knew better. Had the others tried to contact her and been rebuffed? Had she inadvertently chased away well-meaning people? She didn’t know. And with her phone screen damaged, it’d be hard to tell.  
  
Well...that was one thing she could remedy. Flying to St. Canard would mean being able to take her phone in for repair, not to mention she’d be one town away from Duckburg. She could see if Scrooge had meant what he’d said about caring about her and being worried. All of her wanted to believe that, but she didn’t dare get her hopes up again. They’d be dashed to pieces.  
  
Steelbeak patted her on the back. “I’m proud of you for showing initiative back there. And hey, if Black Heron dies, that’s no one’s fault but her own.”  
  
Would he think the same, she wondered, when she came for him?  
  


* * *

  
  
Steelbeak watched his daughter walk away and smirked. If she thought she was concealing her homicidal rage, then he had news for her. She wasn’t as slick as she wanted to pretend she was. But that was all right. That’d been the challenge of many apprentices toward their master. Strike down and/or surpass the master and then they’d be ready for the big guns. He looked forward to her confrontation.  
  
As he walked away himself, he debated adding another element to shake her to the core. Of course, he couldn’t attack Scrooge McDuck. The man was too well-protected, especially after his assault on Dewey and Mrs. Beakley. Unless the remaining triplets and Lena came out from the manor, they’d be sheltered too.  
  
Taurus Bulba, deprived of his true target, had moved onto to St. Canard. Perhaps he ought to have warned Webby he was coming? Oh, but what fun would that be? His daughter had to think on her feet. Plus, there had to be room in her heart for vengeance against Taurus Bulba too. After all, Steelbeak might have ordered their deaths, but Bulba had executed them.  
  
Of course, he could tweak things a little and change the situation around a bit. However, like Webby, he didn’t want to tip his hand. He’d debated telling her more and bringing her into his confidence, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. Until she proved herself loyal beyond reproach, he’d hold the additional information close to the vest where it belonged.  
  
He intended to push her past the point of no return before revealing everything. After all, would Scrooge and the others welcome her back into their home once she’d committed murder? No, of course not. They wouldn’t want a murderess under their roof. He just had to keep nudging her until she conformed. Once she was there, the real work could begin.  
  
And if Black Heron was a casualty, that was her own doing. He’d meant what he’d said. If Black Heron perished, it was her fault for antagonizing Webby.  
  
He passed an image on a webcam installed in Duckburg and smirked. No, it was too early for the cavalry to come and ruin the surprise. He’d need to deter them. A patch of blue caught his gaze and his chest tightened. She couldn’t be allowed to figure out the truth. Not yet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beginning of the plot twist. 
> 
> Webby has a conversation with Gosalyn and Darkwing and her plans, which upsets her plotting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't been writing fanfic much lately, so this fic is being updated once a week on the LJ. This and Hear No Evil. 
> 
> I've been working on a novel. :P

Steelbeak knew there was a danger in Webby finding out what had happened, the truth behind it. He knew that once she had, killing him once wouldn’t be enough. That meant he needed to keep an eye on the situation, both within FOWL HQ and, more importantly, within Duckburg. No one could rescue Webby if they didn’t know where she was. More importantly, no one that shouldn’t be near her could rescue her.  
  
The boy was damnably persistent, Steelbeak would give him that. That was about all he would give him because he threatened to undermine his entire plan. Between the boy and his female associate, they could unravel everything. He needed Webby at the breaking point. She was close, but not there yet. All she needed was a little push.  
  
His top scientists had assured him that things would work out and his plan was foolproof. The problem was that someone always built a bigger fool.  
  


* * *

  
  
Prepped to take on St. Canard, Webby double-checked her bags before shoving her phone, broken screen and all, deep within her luggage. She’d find the closest repair shop, take the ill-gotten gains Steelbeak had given her for this mission, and use them to fix her phone. Then she’d figure out a way to get in touch with Mr. McDuck, Huey, or Lena.  
  
Her stomach clenched. She still thought Lena using Dewey’s number was a dirty trick. It had worked, which made it all the more irritating. Webby fought the urge to fidget with the phone and replay for the hundredth time Dewey’s voice. It didn’t matter whether she’d memorized all the messages he’d left her and that she could play them at any time in her head. She needed to hear him speak, needed to have him and her grandmother close to her, so badly that it was like a knife wound to the chest.  
  
As she walked out and toward the waiting helicopter that would take her to St. Canard, she noted that Black Heron still hadn’t regained consciousness. With any luck, the woman wouldn’t. Webby couldn’t say she was sorry for that turn of events. Black Heron had had it coming for a long time. But still, she had let her temper get the better of her.  
  
The helicopter ride took hours, time in which she spent ignoring the pilot and studying her dossier. She’d memorized that too and it was more for something to leaf through and an excuse to avoid conversation than because she needed to look at it again. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. No, she was stronger than that. She was a Vanderquack.  
  
Whether she succeeded or failed in this endeavor, one thing was certain. She’d be back before Steelbeak to answer for her behavior. Once she’d killed him...well, there wasn’t a plan beyond that. She didn’t know what might become of her or if she’d die in the attempt. She found she didn’t care, one way or another. Death was preferable to a life without her grandmother and Dewey.  
  
It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Scrooge had a plan to bring her home. It was that she didn’t think she belonged there, not after what had happened. She didn’t believe him that she wasn’t at fault. The guilt hung around her neck like a rosary.  
  
When they touched down, she wasted no time in retrieving her belongings and then fleeing. She’d memorized the city’s layout and knew that the nearest phone repair place was a couple of blocks east of where she was now. Figuring she could discard her other luggage and check into a seedy motel later, she made straight for the phone shop. And if anyone wanted to pick a fight with her, they were more than welcome. She’d be glad to take them down a peg or two.  
  
She rushed through the door and almost careened into a customer at the counter. Gosalyn whirled about, glaring at her father.  
  
“Maybe if you didn’t carry it while you were playing hockey, this wouldn’t happen,” Darkwing chastised his teenage daughter.  
  
“Maybe if the phone was built tougher, this wouldn’t have happened,” she countered.  
  
Her prey was right in front of her and Webby had a decision to make. If she wanted to ensure Steelbeak’s happiness and continued cooperation, she could lure the two away from here and make her move. On the other hand, if she wanted to talk to Scrooge McDuck and his family again, she could get her phone fixed first and let them go. Her stomach roiled with indecision.  
  
Whatever she chose, she’d have to pick quickly, because the longer she tarried, the greater the chance that someone would recognize her. Gosalyn already didn’t like her. She didn’t need another reason to lash out at her. Webby fingered her weapons’ belt. If she knocked out the employee and disabled the security cameras, she didn’t even need to leave the store to accomplish her goal.  
  
Her indecision lasted only as long as it took for her to reach into her purse and pull out the battered phone. The employee finally finished with the Mallard family and glanced at Webby.  
  
“Webby?” Gosalyn said. Webby ignored her and put the phone on the counter.  
  
“Can you fix it?” she asked. “If I buy a new phone, I don’t want to lose the number I have.”  
  
“Have you been using this phone?” the employee, a brown-furred dog with floppy ears, frowned at her. “There’s blood and...you have scratches on your face. Ma’am, I feel I have to warn you that with the chipped glass, that’s very dangerous.”  
  
“Can you fix it or not?” she asked flatly, ignoring the employee’s probably feigned concern.  
  
“I can replace the screen, sure,” he said. “But it’ll cost you.”  
  
“How much?”  
  
She ignored the other two ducks staring at her.  
  
“About $300,” he said. “It might take a day or two. I can give you a burner phone in the meanwhile if you want.”  
  
“It won’t change anything, will it? I won’t lose any files or voicemails?” she asked, wishing she didn’t convey such urgency. She balled her hands into fists at her sides. Even though she’d memorized Dewey’s voice, she was still afraid of losing it. It was all she had left of him. Of her grandmother, she had even less. She wished she’d thought to record her before Taurus Bulba had attacked the manor. She had so many regrets.  
  
“It’s only the screen,” the employee said with a shrug. “I’m not doing anything to the phone itself. You shouldn’t lose anything.”  
  
Webby dug into her luggage for FOWL’s pre-paid credit card and handed it over. She had $2,000 on it, including money for emergencies. She considered this an emergency. Of course, whether Steelbeak did was another story, but she’d worry about that later. If there was a later.  
  
Nodding, the employee took the card, as well as the phone, and brought them into a back room. While he did, she glanced over at Gosalyn and Darkwing. Gosalyn stepped forward, looking contrite. She wished she wouldn’t. That would just make this harder in the long run.  
  
“What is it?” she asked, clenching her beak tight.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Gosalyn said. “We got off on the wrong foot. I’d been having a bad week and I took it out on you. I should have known better and I didn’t. It wasn’t right the way I treated you and after what happened, I feel awful. Accept my apology?”  
  
Webby glanced over at Darkwing and couldn’t help but feel there had been some coaching involved. Still, given the amount of time they could have had to hatch this plan, it was more likely Gosalyn’s guilt over the past month than Darkwing’s prodding. How was she supposed to conceive of killing Darkwing and Gosalyn if Gosalyn persisted in being a decent person?  
  
Webby said nothing, her throat narrow.  
  
“I’m sorry, you know, about Dewey and your grandmother,” she continued. “Taurus Bulba killed my grandfather. I know it’s not the same thing, but...I know where you’re coming from.”  
  
Her chest ached and she wished Gosalyn would stop. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Her hands were shaking and she had no pockets to shove them into.  
  
“Thanks,” Webby managed, though she wasn’t sure how considering how constricted her throat was. She inclined her head toward Gosalyn and then was shocked when the red-headed girl grabbed her in a tight embrace. Webby could feel her defenses faltering, the whole ugly mess about to collapse on her head again. She drew several deep, shaky breaths. It wasn’t that she wanted Gosalyn to hug her. It was that Gosalyn was the first person that had after Steelbeak had swept her away after their deaths. Hers was the first gentle touch in over a month and Webby didn’t feel equal to it, especially not after what she’d done to Black Heron.  
  
Gosalyn released her first and the employee returned to hand Webby back her credit card, along with giving her a burner phone and the number for it.  
  
“You should stay with us,” Gosalyn blurted. “Whatever you’re doing here in St. Canard, we can help. And we can put you in touch with Scrooge McDuck and the others.”  
  
Despite herself, her chest ached thinking of McDuck Manor. She was tempted to refuse because she knew this would complicate matters in terms of avoiding her assignment, but Steelbeak, if he’d given her a handler that wasn’t Black Heron, would have known she’d refused this and would punish her for it.  
  
“Gos, I’m not so sure--” Darkwing said and Gosalyn grabbed her hands.  
  
“It’ll be perfect,” she promised. “What do you say?”  
  
What could she say? She couldn’t refuse, not really. It wouldn’t be prudent. As she nodded, sudden pain lanced at her temples and the world flickered. It righted itself a second later, making her wonder whether she’d imagined it. For the briefest of moments, she thought she’d seen...but it didn’t matter. She was functioning on too much grief and too little sleep.  
  
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” Darkwing said out of the corner of his beak to his daughter. Gosalyn shrugged.  
  
“I was a dick to her earlier. I have to make it up somehow,” Gosalyn said with a shrug.  
  
“Language, Gos,” he reprimanded.  
  
“You use worse.”  
  
“Not when you’re around to hear it!”  
  
“Huh. Wonder how I picked it up, then?” Gosalyn asked innocently. Webby gathered her gear and, between them, they split it up and carried it out to the Ratcatcher outside. She stowed her stuff wherever there was room and they headed off into St. Canard’s suburbs. She felt naked without the phone, even if it had been responsible for her cuts and lacerations.  
  
“How have you been?” Gosalyn called as they roared through the streets.  
  
Webby was tempted to respond with “shitty” but she didn’t want to deal with the can of worms that would open up. Instead, she shrugged, hoping that would convey everything she couldn’t say.  
  
“When we get back to the house, I’ll loan you my spare phone and you can use it to call McDuck Manor,” Gosalyn promised. “How did your phone get all cracked like that, anyway?”  
  
“I might’ve thrown it into a wall,” Webby muttered. “A few times. I was angry.”  
  
Darkwing frowned, glancing at her briefly before returning his gaze to the road. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. That was all right. Webby didn’t need pity. Right now, the hole in her chest that had been there ever since their deaths burned and she swallowed past the lump in her throat.  
  
“Where’s Steelbeak now?” Gosalyn asked after five minutes had gone by without conversation.  
  
“Canada, I think.”  
  
She didn’t need to give them more than that, did she? Then again, she didn’t want them tracking him down before she had a chance to kill him for what he’d done. Maybe then the ache in her chest would go away and she’d be, if not at peace, at least not in pieces.  
  
“Hurting him won’t make you feel better,” Gosalyn said and Webby jerked her gaze across the Ratcatcher to the other side carriage. “I mean, it might, for a little while, but it won’t bring Dewey and your grandmother back.”  
  
“He deserves what’s coming to him,” Webby said in a flat voice.  
  
Darkwing nearly crashed into a light pole. He cast Webby a suspicious look. “What do you mean by that?”  
  
Webby drew in another deep, staggering breath. “He deserves to die.”  
  
Darkwing pulled over lest they careen into something else. “Webby--”  
  
“You’re not going to convince me otherwise,” she said. “For what he’s done to Dewey and Granny, for what he’s taken away from me for all these years, he deserves to die.”  
  
“Killing him won’t solve anything,” Darkwing said and cast a quick glance around to ensure they weren’t being overheard. Not that it really mattered. The St. Canard police department was a bad joke.  
  
“You don’t know that,” Webby said, shuddering.  
  
“I do know that,” Darkwing said. “Webby, listen to me. This is what Scrooge and the others are trying to prevent. When you kill someone, you lose part of yourself. Dewey and your grandmother wouldn’t want that.”  
  
“They’re dead. How do you know what they’d want?”  
  
“I’ve spoken to Huey, Louie, and Lena,” Gosalyn rushed. “You’re a good person, Webby. And good people find other ways to punish people. They don’t kill them.”  
  
“What if I don’t want to be a good person?” she retorted. “What if I just…”  
  
She stopped and clenched her eyes shut tight. What if she just wanted the pain to stop? Tears pricked the corners of her eyes.  
  
“Webby, I know how you feel,” Gosalyn said. Webby couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. She knew that if she did, the tears would start coming and they wouldn’t stop.  
  
“After Taurus Bulba killed my grandfather, when I wasn’t petrified of him, I wanted him dead too. I thought it’d make things better. Killing someone because they hurt you is never the right thing to do. It might make you feel better, for a little bit, but that hurt, the pain of losing someone, never goes away. It just becomes easier to deal with over time.”  
  
“I don’t want it to be easier to deal with!” Webby snapped. “I want them back…”  
  
She shuddered again and hugged herself. Darkwing placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“I want them back…” she whimpered.  
  
“Killing him won’t bring them back,” Darkwing said. “It doesn’t solve anything.”  
  
“You don’t understand,” Webby said.  
  
“I understand perfectly,” he replied. “You’re hurting. You want someone to hurt the way you do. But it doesn’t accomplish anything. It doesn’t bring them back. It doesn’t make you stop aching for them.”  
  
He started up the Ratcatcher again and they fell into a stony silence. Webby was unwilling to capitulate the point and she was painfully aware of the other two casting occasional glances her way. They didn’t understand. They claimed they did, but how could they? How could anyone? She swiped stubbornly at her cheeks and refused to let the tears fall.  
  
She’d already made up her mind she wasn’t going to kill Darkwing and Gosalyn. But if she didn’t kill Steelbeak, what was left of her? What was she supposed to do with herself?  
  


* * *

  
  
(Over a month ago)  
  
“This is stupid!” Dewey snapped, kicking the desk upon which the computer sat. “Why can’t we just go find her?”  
  
“Because, lad, we cannae run in there willy-nilly,” Scrooge said.  
  
“She’s suffering,” Dewey snapped. They were in his office and Dewey hated everything about it right now. He hated Scrooge, he hated the antiquated machine his great-uncle called a computer, and he especially hated Scrooge’s attitude.  
  
“She probably thinks we abandoned her,” Dewey muttered.  
  
“We don’t know exactly where she is,” Scrooge said in a softer tone. “We cannae run in there, guns blazing unless we know exactly what he’s doing to her and how to stop it.”  
  
“I don’t want to wait,” Dewey snapped. “The longer we wait, the worse it’ll get.”  
  
“You think I dinnae know that? You think I want her to suffer?”  
  
“Considering that you made her think her grandmother was dead for a while, yeah, maybe I think you do,” Dewey snapped.  
  
“That was a test to see where her alliances lay.”  
  
“And what’s this a test of, huh? To see how long she can go without breaking?” he snapped.  
  
“We haven’t found her yet, lad! How do ye propose to save if her if ye dinnae know where she is?” he snapped.  
  
“I’ll think of something,” he muttered.  
  
“Ye’re just like your mother. Too headstrong for your own good,” Scrooge muttered. Dewey winced, knowing that Della’s behavior had caused her to lose a leg and be separated from her family for over ten years. Hers was the extreme example of behavior not to emulate.  
  
“Okay, fine, so we’ll wait. How long? How long until it’s too long and she reaches the breaking point?” he shot back.  
  
“As soon as we find her and we know we can get her out, we’ll be there,” Scrooge promised.  
  
“It’d better not be too much longer,” Dewey snapped, surly, with nothing to back up his statement except resentment and anxiety over Webby’s mental state.  
  
“Ye cannae predict what’ll happen,” Scrooge said and reached out to put a hand on his grandnephew’s shoulder, which Dewey yanked out of his reach.  
  
“Neither can you. I still say this is a stupid idea.”  
  
“And I say it’s the only one we’ve got,” Scrooge said. “Hang in there, lad. SHUSH’s looking for her. It’ll be any day now.”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Dewey muttered. “Excuse me if I don’t get my hopes up.”  
  
He ran into Mrs. Beakley on the way out and she scowled, nodding her head toward Scrooge’s office door.  
  
“Nothing satisfactory, I take it?” she asked, arching her eyebrows.  
  
“No,” Dewey said, sullen.  
  
“I’ll see if I can get anything else out of him,” she promised.  
  
“Good luck,” he replied. “You’re gonna need it.”  
  
“Hmph,” was all Mrs. Beakley said in reply. He knew she was just as concerned about Webby as he was. How long were they going to have to wait, anyway?  _“How long is forever?” “Sometimes, just one second.”_


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PLOT TWIST.

He didn’t know how Louie and Lena had ended up under his auspices and the two he really wanted to stop remained at large. It should have been a simple matter; one of them was headstrong and the other determined to rescue Webby. Yet, to his supreme irritation, they were beyond his reach. No one should have been beyond his grasp. However they had managed to keep themselves hidden, Steelbeak swore he would root them out.

Lena and Louie had no idea where their co-conspirators had gone. He had nabbed them coming out of McDuck Manor and he would have thought, as foolhardy as Louie’s brother was, he would have been with them. But, no, of course not. The dratted boy had been coached.

Fuming over his current state of affairs, he failed to notice that Webby wasn’t behaving as normal. That, in fact, she might be heading toward a different outcome than the one he desired. If he had noticed, he might have redirected things. Perhaps it was a good thing for what remained of her sanity that he was otherwise occupied.

* * *

Gosalyn had handed Webby her phone and Webby sat alone in the guest room while turning it over and over in her hands. Although the red-headed girl had left her alone, she’d promised she’d be back soon to talk. Webby didn’t want to talk. She had wanted everything to be as crystal clear and perfect in her mind as it had been before getting off the plane in St. Canard. She’d either avoid her assignment or complete it and return to FOWL HQ to kill Steelbeak. From there, she had no idea where her life would go, but at least she had had a concrete plan. Gosalyn and Darkwing had thwarted that.

They had reminded her that she had other people who cared about her and that killing Steelbeak wouldn’t bring back the ones she loved. And damn it, she didn’t appreciate it. Webby flopped over onto the bed, buried her face in the pillow, and allowed herself to weep as she hadn’t under FOWL’s custody. She hugged the pillow to her as she sobbed.

In her hand, Gosalyn’s phone rang. She ignored it for a couple of minutes, but whoever was calling her was persistent. Webby wiped her face and stared at the number. It was Scrooge McDuck. Although Gosalyn and Darkwing knew Scrooge by association, they weren’t close allies. That meant Gosalyn must have given her phone number out through her computer. Webby was too drained to be upset by that.

She answered and anticipated the phone’s screen cutting into her cheek. It didn’t and she almost mourned the sharp pain. It would have been a welcome contrast to the emotional anguish she felt.

“Hello?”

“I see you made it to St. Canard,” Scrooge said. “Welcome back, lass.”

Her throat closed up and she couldn’t reply. She shook her head and then heard someone grumble.

“In a minute,” Scrooge snapped.

It happened again. For a few seconds, her world flickered and this time, she saw a bare, gray room and felt a weight upon her head and over her eyes. Webby reached up toward it and it was gone. Waving her hand in front of her face revealed no glasses and she grew uneasy. Something beyond her ken was going on here and she didn’t like it.

“Webby?”

It was Dewey’s voice. Webby froze as if struck. It wasn’t Dewey’s voice from a recording. It was him speaking in her ear. She reached up again and, again, encountered nothing.

“You’re playing a dangerous game. He’ll figure out you’re here,” Huey said.

“I don’t care,” came Dewey’s retort. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“We don’t know where Lena and Louie are. Don’t you think he’s more likely to notice we tampered with Webby first--”

The voices died out and Scrooge was talking as if they’d never been present. She’d lost track of what he’d been saying and she bit the inside of her cheek. Was she losing her mind? Was she so desperate to hear Dewey again that she’d imagined him? If that was the case, then why had she imagined him having a conversation with Huey?

Faintly, she heard, underneath Scrooge, Dewey’s voice, “It’s not tampering if we’re careful--”

“In what sense is yanking out wires, some of which might be keeping her alive, being careful, Dewey?” Huey sounded testy.

Their voices faded and she shuddered, rubbing her arms. She didn’t know what was going on.

“Are...are Huey and Dewey there?” she ventured, interrupting Scrooge mid-sentence. “Sorry, Mr. McDuck.”

“Are you feeling all right, lass? You know what happened to Dewey.”

Or did she? Now she wasn’t feeling quite as certain.

“Then who’s in the room with you?” she asked and her heart pounded.

“No one.”

Webby’s stomach jerked so hard she thought she might vomit. Either Scrooge was lying, which was possible, or something else was going on, which was also possible. Either way, she wasn’t getting the whole story. She reached up again to her head and again, felt nothing. Great. Maybe she was losing her mind.

“Then why do I hear voices?” she asked, heart pounding. “Am I losing it?”

“How much sleep have you gotten in the last month, lass? Maybe you need to get some rest,” he suggested.

Maybe. She didn’t think that was it, though. Once again, she found her mind drifting back to Steelbeak and wondering whether he had something to do with this. Could he have been conspiring again, something that she had no idea about?

“Okay,” she agreed, albeit reluctantly.

“We’ll speak again tomorrow morning,” he promised and they said their goodbyes. Closing her eyes, she focused on what Dewey and Huey had said. It was the first time she’d heard anything new from Dewey in over a month. Maybe she was so desperate to hear her boyfriend that she was hallucinating. She had no idea what they’d been talking about, which struck her as odd. Surely if she were hallucinating them, she’d be constructing a figment that made sense?

She was, however, fatigued from the jet lag. Falling back onto the bed, she closed her eyes. Perhaps in the morning, she’d be able to piece everything together. She felt a ghostly hand stroke her hair and she smiled. Even if she was imagining Dewey, it was welcome. She wished he could hold her again, just once.

* * *

“You can’t yank on the wires, Dewey,” Huey snapped, folding his arms across his chest and regarding his younger brother with a sharp gaze that the blue-attired boy somehow missed. Or perhaps Dewey was determined to ignore his older brother’s warnings. Huey wanted to shake him.

“She has no idea we’re here,” Dewey protested. He cupped Webby’s cheek in his palm. The teenage girl, true to Dewey’s words, showed no inkling she wasn’t alone. At present, they were within a small, heavily wired room no larger than a broom closet. A screen lowered from the ceiling to show Webby asleep in the Mallards’ guest bedroom. Dewey glared at it and then looked back at her.

Huey frowned. The bedroom had to be what was going on elsewhere. The VR visor was over her eyes and the helmet atop her head was plugged into a socket on the wall. In addition to the electrical hookups, she had IV lines dangling everywhere, as well as a line for waste that Huey didn’t care to examine too closely. As far as he could tell, judging by her position and, well, to be frank, the smell, she’d been here for the past thirty-six days.

It’d taken them about thirty days to track down Steelbeak and FOWL. From there, Louie and Lena had led the vanguard, which had proved problematic when both disappeared into the bowels of FOWL HQ. Huey wanted to find them first--releasing them was less likely to produce a security alert and therefore, less likely to bring Steelbeak and his Eggheads crashing upon them.

Of course, Dewey wanted to free Webby. Mrs. Beakley was elsewhere in the base and shutting off, isolating, and/or knocking out anyone that threatened them. He wasn’t sure which she would have argued for--releasing Webby now or waiting until the moment was right. Dewey was always impatient and couldn’t see that this situation was different. Releasing Webby now could have dire consequences.

Not that Dewey listened to his older brother’s sage advice very often. This had been and continued to be a source of annoyance.

“We can’t stay here. We don’t know what’s going on with Steelbeak,” Huey pointed out, tugging Dewey away. However, his brother refused to move.

“She’s so gaunt,” Dewey breathed and stroked her face with the back of his hand. “And she’s been crying. I can see her wet feathers. What do you think is going on in there?”

Huey sighed. It looked like, regardless of what was prudent, Dewey was insistent upon this course. He studied Webby’s hook-up to see what might be removed without sounding the general alarm. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see where the IVs began, only where they ended, and the same went for all of her electric wires. Unhooking her would be a chancy venture without assistance.

“We should video call Gyro,” Huey said. “Maybe he’d know how to free her.”

“What if I--” Dewey reached toward an IV cord and Huey tackled him.

“You could kill her!” he snapped. “You don’t know what’s keeping her alive in there. She could bleed out, that could be vital nutrients--we don’t know. And until we know, we can’t touch anything. Do you understand?”

Dewey nodded, looking so pitiful that Huey regretted his outburst. Thoroughly miserable, he permitted his brother to lead him away.

“I’ll come back for you. I promise,” Dewey said. “I love you, Webs.”

“Dewey…” Webby whimpered and tears slipped down her cheeks. Before Huey had a chance to object, his brother raced back toward her.

“What is it? What’s going on?” he demanded.

“She can’t hear you.”

“Because all of this stupid equipment,” Dewey grumbled. He cast it a dirty look and then, after brushing his beak against Webby’s, stepped back again. There was anguish etched in his features and Huey wished they could free Webby first if only to take away the pain in Dewey’s expression. He wrapped an arm about his shoulders.

“Whatever she’s seeing in there, it has to do with me,” Dewey whispered.

They glanced at the monitor, but, as Webby appeared to be asleep in the virtual reality, there was nothing to see. There were certainly not outward indications of what she might be dreaming beyond her weeping. Unfortunately, Huey knew that Webby had endured far more than her share of tragedy and could be morose about any number of things, not necessarily Dewey. He didn’t have the heart to tell Dewey that.

“We’ll be back,” Dewey repeated. “We will be back, right?”

“We’ll be back,” Huey promised. They were silent for a while as they moved through the base. Unlike how Webby had described the previous base from which she’d escaped, this one was quiet as a tomb. It gave Huey the creeps. Their footsteps echoed on the linoleum floors and Huey was alert for any sudden movement that might precipitate an attack.

As they moved, Huey consulted the floorplan that Gyro had swiped. If his hypothesis was correct, Louie and Lena should be further down the hall. Thus far, they’d encountered no resistance. It was possible Steelbeak had left a skeletal crew down here to deal with troublemakers. He probably hadn’t expected anyone coming after him aside from the boys, Lena, and Mrs. Beakley. In that, sadly, he’d been correct. But if anyone could pull it off, they could. Huey had confidence in them.

“Huey?” Dewey said when the silence had stretched too long and grown unbearable. “Do you think Lena and Louie are hooked up to a VR suit too?”

“Yeah, probably,” Huey said in an undertone, hoping that Dewey would take the hint and lower his voice too. “It keeps them out of Steelbeak’s feathers and ensures they can’t rescue Webby.”

Since they were on radio silence, he had no idea what was going on with Mrs. B. They hadn’t told her where Webby was and Huey feared her reaction once she found out. If Dewey was reacting this extreme to seeing Webby confined and half-starving, then how would Mrs. Beakley react knowing one more injustice was being heaped upon her granddaughter?

They had to shut this operation down and fast before anything got worse.

The lights flickered and died.

And then there was that.

* * *

In the morning, she awoke feeling oddly stiff and she stretched, working out the kinks. As she did so, she glanced at her cell phone, or, rather, Gosalyn’s spare phone. She had fallen asleep with it beside her. There were no more missed calls and she didn’t know what to make of what had happened earlier.

She’d heard Dewey. She knew she had. But it made no sense. Reality didn’t flicker again and she chalked it up to fatigue and grief. She’d wanted to hear Dewey’s voice so badly that she’d imagined it. And she’d wanted to believe Gosalyn and Darkwing were right so badly, she’d let herself be tricked into it.

That couldn’t happen again. Therefore, she needed to have an exit strategy. She changed, not in the mood to shower after the last time (Black Heron’s fate hung over her head, even if she refused to feel guilty about it), and went down for breakfast. As she did, she discovered Launchpad cooking pancakes. Launchpad? Webby halted, surprised.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“He stays with us sometimes,” Gosalyn said, seated at the table. Darkwing, or, rather, Drake Mallard, was reading the paper. Webby sometimes thought only older people read the paper nowadays. She certainly never saw anyone her age or close to it leafing through the newspaper.

“How are you?” Launchpad asked with a scrutiny that was entirely too keen for her. Webby glared at him, but he was too stupid to cotton onto her meaning. Sighing, she handed Gosalyn back her phone and then plopped into a seat opposite her. She hadn’t slept well and she’d love a cup of coffee, but she wasn’t sure she trusted Launchpad with a coffee maker.

Drake lowered the page to stare at Webby. Webby bristled.

“What?” she said and suppressed a yawn. He was opposite her with Gosalyn on his left.

“You’re not thinking of doing anything stupid, are you?” he reprimanded.

“I know my limits,” she replied, which wasn’t an answer. Judging by Drake’s narrowed eyes, he knew it too.

“You can’t bottle these things up,” Gosalyn said. “You have to talk about them.”

She nodded, excused herself, and then grabbed the phone back. With trembling fingers, she texted Lena. She hadn’t spoken with her since that incident and she wasn’t sure what she’d say to her. A simple “hey, it’s me, Webby” seemed inadequate, but she didn’t know how else to start the conversation.

“Webby!” Lena texted back instantly and then the phone rang. Webby answered it, fumbling and nearly dropping the phone.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?” Lena demanded. “We’re coming.”

“I don’t need you to come,” Webby said and noticed, absently, how cold her voice was. “I can handle it on my own.”

“Handle…” Lena stopped. “No. You’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

“Why is everyone so dead set against it?” Webby demanded. “I know what I’m doing. He deserves it.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t.”

Lena’s agreement was a surprise, but not a gift horse Webby was inclined to look in the mouth. Did that mean that Lena might help her? She at least understood, having been Magica’s puppet for so long. Maybe Webby wouldn’t have to be alone in this.

“I’m saying that killing him will destroy what’s left of you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Really. I don’t know what it’s like to be around someone who’s been plotting revenge for fifteen years and yammering at me all that time demanding I come up with a plan for vengeance. That same someone who forced me to befriend the Duck triplets so she could enact an elaborate plan that led to her failing again anyway because Magica fails at life. I don’t know anything about that?”

Lena’s voice was cold and sharp.

“Okay, fine, maybe you do,” she conceded. “But--”

“You want him dead. And you want it to be by your hand because you feel like that way, you’ll have avenged Dewey and Mrs. B. Okay. What then? What happens after you’re done? Who will you be, Webby Vanderquack?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters a lot. You’ve probably built your entire future around what’ll happen to Steelbeak. And then what? You’ll just jump off a cliff?”

“I don’t need a lecture,” Webby said and her throat was tight. Tears burned the corners of her eyes and she didn’t know why. Lena was getting under her skin.

“No, you need a reality check,” Lena said. “If you kill Steelbeak, you’ll be just like FOWL wants. A trained killer with no options left. You’ll be the new master because, as the apprentice, you killed the master. Like in Star Wars.”

“I…” She hadn’t thought of it that way. Stymied, she didn’t know what to say. Lena went on the offensive.

“Louie, Huey, and I still want you around,” she said. “Everyone does. You can’t throw your life away because of some asshole. Revenge doesn’t feel so good when it’s all said and done. There’s nothing left. You can’t build a life out of it, Webs.”

“I can’t just let it slide,” she argued. “I can’t let him off the hook, Lena.”

“We can help you,” she said. “Do you trust me?”

After Dewey, Lena was her best friend. Her throat tightened again. “I...yes. I do.”

“Then come back to Duckburg and we can go from there. No judgment.”

“I’ll be there,” she promised.

“Good.”

* * *

It was the first time he’d had in the past few days to check in on Webby and her progress through the VR machine. Everyone was behaving as normal and with Lena and Louie trapped within the matrix, it was easier to guess their personalities and reactions. Webby seemed to have reached a decision. Steelbeak hoped it was the right one. If she killed his counterpart, then she’d have proven her worth to succeed him in FOWL. It was all he’d ever wanted for her, to surpass him. Wasn’t that what all parents wanted of their offspring?

She hadn’t figured out that she was hooked up to a machine and, with any luck, she wouldn’t. She’d find out when he was good and ready to tell her, no sooner.

In the meanwhile, it looked like his security system was buggy. He’d need to have that looked into. He spun the chair about to face the cameras and the computer before him. As he did, he became aware of a shadow looming over him.

“Do you mind? You’re in my light,” he snapped.

“I mind,” Mrs. Beakley said and then punched his lights out.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With apologies to Gosalyn Waddlemeyer-Mallard.

When Steelbeak awoke, it was to discover himself tied up and bound to a chair. Mrs. Beakley paced in front of him and her eyes flashed. She’d been searching the security cameras for Webby, Lena, and Louie, he guessed. He saw the moment she hit upon Webby’s camera because her beak pursed and she trembled in rage. Steelbeak snorted.

“What have you done to her?” she demanded.

“Nothing...yet,” he said. “The true test is yet to come. Notice all the VR stuff? She’s hooked up into her worst nightmare. I wanna see what she’s made of. But, oh, don’t go cutting the switch.”

He grinned, cocky despite the black eye and Mrs. Beakley’s fury pounding at him. 

“You wouldn’t want to upset the delicate ecosystem, would you?” he said. “Hit camera 3. That’ll show you what she’s seeing right now.”

Mrs. Beakley did as he suggested, albeit eying him warily. As she did, his grin widened. It looked like the scientists in charge of the simulation had cottoned on to trouble and were shifting it accordingly. Webby was alone, heading toward Duckburg, and couldn’t escape what was to come. It was time to test her mettle.

* * *

“I can’t believe you, Webbigail,” Steelbeak crooned as Webby turned, walking toward Duckburg to meet up with Louie, Lena, and Huey. She stiffened, uncertain how he had reached Duckburg without notice and equally uncertain how the cops weren’t swooping down on him right now. She’d given Gosalyn back her cell phone, which meant she couldn’t alert the authorities, but that was fine. She didn’t need them. The weight in her chest burned and she swallowed past a lump in her throat.

“You get Darkwing and his daughter on a platter and what do you do? You throw them away.”

“You’re my only target,” she growled. They were standing on the bridge between the two cities. She was through with artifice. If he wanted to walk toward his death, then so be it. She didn’t care if it was in broad daylight. Cars rushed past them and she scoffed. Let other people watch. 

But what the others had said…

“You want me dead,” Steelbeak said and grinned. “I can’t say I’m surprised. After all, I took everything away from you, didn’t I? Put your back against the wall and kept pushing. What were Dewey’s last words to you, anyway?”

Webby’s throat was tight and tears pricked the corners of her eyes. “Don’t.”

“What about your grandmother? Agent 22 failed you one last time. She was easier to kill than Black Heron had thought; it was just a matter of attacking the person she cared about the most.

“You think killing me will avenge them. Maybe wherever they are, they’ll be looking in on this. They’d want you to get on with it, Webby. Quit stalling.”

Steelbeak’s grin became mocking. “Kill me. If you can.”

“Webby!” It was Gosalyn rushing up with the others. “Don’t! Don’t throw your life away!”

“Shut up,” Steelbeak snapped and, pulling a gun out of its holster at his hips, aimed it at her. Gosalyn slowed and then ducked, aiming to tackle him. Steelbeak was impossibly fast and the gun went off, painting crimson and pink on the sidewalk. Shocked, Webby gawked for a few seconds. Lena, Louie, and Huey looked likewise stunned.

“Do you want me dead now, Webby?” Steelbeak taunted. “I know you didn’t care much for Gosalyn. You and I, we’re not that different. It’s about time you realized it.”

With effort, she forced her gaze away from Gosalyn’s body. Her blood pounded and she trembled, fists balling. 

“She had nothing to do with this,” Webby said. Her voice quivered.

“No? What about Lena?” he said and rounded on the sorceress. Webby dashed the remaining distance between her and her best friend and tackled Lena about the waist. Steelbeak’s shot went wide and tears slipped down Webby’s cheeks. Part of her wanted to hug Lena to her and ensure that her best friend remained alive and whole. The other part of her, however, wanted Steelbeak dead more than ever.

“Who are you to decide that he deserves to die?” Huey said and Webby, straightening up and helping Lena back to her feet, stared at him. “What makes you worthy of that versus the justice system? You’re not the only one who wants him dead, Webby. But will it help bring the others back? Will it...will fix anything?”

“He tried to kill Lena,” Webby said in a strangled voice. “He killed your brother, my granny, and Gosalyn. How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” Louie said. “And you know it.”

Lena hastened to Louie’s side and he hugged her. Webby felt a brief flash of jealousy, but it was subsumed by the burning hatred she felt toward Steelbeak. Why did he have the right to take everything away from her? Why was he allowed to keep killing people she cared about and she wasn’t allowed to kill him?

“Maybe it won’t bring the others back,” Steelbeak conceded. “But maybe it will help. Maybe it will ease the ache in your chest, the unbearable heaviness of being. Maybe with my death, you’ll be able to live with yourself again.”

He stepped forward and Lena took Webby’s hand with her other hand.

“You’re not getting her,” Lena hissed.

“I didn’t ask you,” Steelbeak hissed. “Shadow construct.”

“I’m real now,” Lena snapped. The words were meaningless to Webby, especially as Steelbeak was training his gun on Lena again. Louie jerked Lena away and Webby tackled Steelbeak. She pulled out her knives, the knives Steelbeak had given her, and panted. Her chest was tight and she imagined carving up Steelbeak’s chest. She imagined giving him a matching smile along his throat. Blood would paint her, warm and viscous, and she’d be free. She’d never have to see his smug, smarmy face ever again.

“Don’t.” Huey again.

This time, however, she looked up to spy Scrooge McDuck joining them. Her throat was too tight to speak.

“Kill me,” Steelbeak said as she straddled him. “Go ahead. Take your place as the master. Or are you too weak?”

He snorted. “I didn’t raise you to be weak and hesitate, Webbigail. You want someone to hurt, you do that. You want them dead, you move fast. Kill. Me. Or don’t you want it badly enough?”

“Lass, he’s baiting you,” Scrooge said. “Ye cannae give in.”

“Why?” she burst out and she wasn’t sure of whom she was asking the question. “Why? Why did you do this?”

“You needed to be pushed to the brink,” Steelbeak said. Webby brought the knife down in an arc and someone grabbed her arm before it connected with his chest. She glanced over to spy Lena.

“Don’t you know, Webs? You should never do what the villain says just because he says it. That’s a shitty reason to do anything,” Lena said. 

“She’s standing in your way,” Steelbeak taunted. “They won’t want anything to do with you after this. Why not cut her loose now? Cut them all loose? They’ve never done anything but hold you back. Take your rightful place as FOWL’s leader. Do it, Webbigail.”

But she didn’t want to be FOWL’s leader. She’d never wanted to be its head. That was her father’s dream for her. Faltering, she gazed at Lena instead of Steelbeak. Her lower beak quaked.

“Who are you without your friends and family?” Steelbeak crooned. He reached for his gun and Webby cut his hand off. There was a sharp intake of breath around her.

“Didn’t hesitate there,” Steelbeak said with a smirk. 

“Shut up,” Webby growled. Lena tugged at her and she allowed the older girl to pull her away. Steelbeak could still perish from blood loss. She still wanted him dead, craved it in fact, but she couldn’t stand the consequences. 

“Go,” she said in a strangled voice she barely recognized as her own. “I’m not going to kill you. I’ll leave you to Darkwing Duck. Maybe he’ll be more charitable than me.”

Steelbeak grabbed her with his remaining hand. “You’re failing my test. Kill. Me.”

He released her shirt and grabbed her right hand. With force, he guided it toward his chest and Webby jerked back, letting Lena again pull her away.

“No!” she said. “The...the others are right. It won’t bring Dewey and Granny back. It won’t help anything. It’d make me just like you. And I’d rather die before I was like you…”

Lena hugged her.

“I’d...rather...die…” Webby whispered.

“You’re no daughter of mine,” Steelbeak snapped.

“And why is that such a bad thing?” Scrooge said and stroked Webby’s hair. “Everyone is made up of the people they love and care about, not just themselves. Not just who they think should be their primary influence. Like it or not, Steelbeak, Webby can make up her mind for herself.”

“This is not how this is supposed to play out,” Steelbeak snapped, his voice higher and weaker than normal due to blood loss. 

“Maybe it’s not how you imagined it playing out,” Louie said. “But it’s how it needs to go.”

“No!” Steelbeak snapped. “No! I won’t accept it! I’ll run the parameters again! She’s my daughter, damn it!”

“No,” Webby said quietly, trembling still and clinging to Lena. “I’m Agent 22’s granddaughter.”

* * *

“I think we can pull that wire without a problem,” Huey said and Dewey yanked accordingly. Webby sagged in her chair and, after Gyro’s further instructions, they proceeded to release Webby from her confinement. Dewey caught her before she fell and hit the floor.

“No offense, but you all smell,” Huey told Louie and Lena.

“I smell fine,” Louie huffed.

“That means you’re beyond being able to smell yourself, which means you need a bath,” Huey retorted.

“Webby…” Dewey breathed and stroked her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t wake. He cradled her to him.

“She’ll be okay. She’s been through a lot,” Huey said. “We should let her rest.”

“I saw some of what happened to her,” Lena said quietly. “Steelbeak put her through the wringer. Bastard.”

“We need to find Mrs. B and get out of here,” Huey said. “I wonder where she went.”

* * *

“You failed,” Mrs. Beakley said coldly. “All of that training and conditioning and she still made the right decision. She still cares more for her friends and family than she does for you.”

Steelbeak cursed.

She smirked. “And now I’m leaving you for SHUSH to pick up. But first…”

She kicked him square in the groin, hopefully, hard enough to break something. Webby needed her and she fully intended to be there when her granddaughter awoke.

* * *

Webby didn’t wake until after they’d returned home. She awoke in her own bed to find Dewey and Lena watching her closely. Confused and overjoyed, she threw herself into Dewey’s arms. Dewey hugged her tightly back.

“You’re alive...you’re real...Steelbeak killed you…” Webby said and struggled not to sob.

“No, he put you through a simulation where he made you think he did,” he corrected. “To see if you’d kill him. To see if you were capable of rising to the top of FOWL like he did. But you’re nothing like him, Webs. You’re Mrs. B’s granddaughter through and through.”

“Yeah, pink,” Lena said and stroked Webby’s hair. “You’re one of us whether you like it or not.”

Webby’s grip tightened around Dewey. “I’m never letting you go.”

“That might be awkward when it comes to other stuff…” Dewey said. “Also, you’re hurting me.”

“Sorry…” she mumbled and let up, but not enough to relinquish her hold. “I love you. I love both of you.”

“I love you too,” Dewey murmured, kissing the crown of her head. “Now, you should probably take a shower. Because no offense, but you stink.”

She blew him a raspberry and then laughed, beyond relief and happiness toward something transcendent. “Join me?”

“No, thanks,” Lena said and she blew her a raspberry too.

“I didn’t mean you,” she told the other girl and Lena grinned wickedly.

“Are you sure your grandmother isn’t going to have a fit?” Dewey asked and Webby beamed at him.

“I think, maybe, just this once, she’ll be okay with it,” Webby said. “As long as I don’t make a habit of it.”

Rising from the bed, she led Dewey by the hand toward the bathroom. Lena whistled at them and Webby blushed.

“Don’t be too loud, now,” she teased. “You might traumatize someone. I don’t know who, but I’m sure it’ll happen. Maybe Huey’s virgin ears. He’s the only virgin left in this house.”

“That was more than I needed to know,” Dewey said and Lena continued to grin.

“Have a good shower. And remember--floor mats and suction cups are your friends in case you lose your balance,” she teased.

Webby grinned back, pulling Dewey in for a nice, long kiss before dragging him to the shower with her. 

Tags: [ducktales: au: the kill: finished](https://faded-fae.livejournal.com/tag/ducktales%3A%20au%3A%20the%20kill%3A%20finished)


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